


I'm So Sorry

by GrayOwl



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayOwl/pseuds/GrayOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel gets slushied and Quinn feels guilty and wants to help. Quinn invites Rachel to her house and their relationship changes, but both girls are trying to ignore more-than-friends feelings. Faberry, with a side of Brittana, and Unholy Trinity friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting of my story, which I originally began posting on fanfiction.net under the same name. Suggestions and reviews are very much appreciated, as I am fairly new to fanfic writing.

"Rachel, I…" Quinn's voice trailed off as the smaller girl turned to face her. The hurt in those brown eyes was palpable, and the blonde had to clear her throat before she could continue.

"Rachel, I'm so sorry," she finally managed to whisper, so quietly that the blonde wasn't sure the other girl had heard. Rachel turned back to the mirror, giving no indication. The cheerleader looked down as the brunette tried in vain to clean off the excess slushy.

The blonde cheerleader and tiny diva stood in silence for what felt like hours before Quinn removed herself from the bathroom wall and offered a paper towel to the brunette, wetting it first.

Rachel accepted hesitantly, their gazes briefly meeting in the mirror. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she flinched at the unexpected feeling of dampness on her cheek as Quinn gently wiped away some of the red stickiness left behind by the melted ice, as well as a tear that had escaped. The brunette was equally unprepared for the tremor that ran through her when she felt a stray piece of hair being tucked behind her ear by the taller girl. The gesture felt so…intimate. Intimate and kind, and Rachel's heart sped up as she inhaled sharply.

Quinn frowned, feeling the petite girl shiver.  _She must be really freezing. There's no way she can clean up properly in a school bathroom. She needs a shower and new clothes. God, I'm going to kill the assholes that did this. I can't believe_ I _used to do this._

Taking a deep breath, Quinn tried a third time to speak to the singer.

"Do you have a change of clothes?" asked the blonde, her voice still soft.

Quinn cursed mentally when Rachel shook her head no. Looking down at her uniform, the cheerleader realized that she too had not brought an additional outfit to school that day.  _Lunch is probably over by now._ Glancing at the clock, the blonde was surprised to see how much time had passed. It was already ten minutes into eighth period.

_Berry has dealt with this before. She'll be fine_ argued one side of the blonde, the side that was screaming for her to run.

_That doesn't make it right_  retorted the part of Quinn that had grown since Beth's birth. Beth had changed so much in the blonde's life, including how she treated other people.  _What would you want your daughter to do? What would you want someone to do if it was your daughter who needed help?_

_Protect yourself first_ insisted the scared side.

_Rachel would help you if the situation were reversed._

_What should I do?_

One look at the uncharacteristically mute diva made her decision.

"Come with me," Quinn ordered, not unkindly. Rachel, slightly dazed, obeyed. Miraculously, they only ran into one person in the hallway. Unfortunately, it was that annoying guy on the school paper, Jacob Ben Israel, but he thought better of saying anything after a piercing glare from the head cheerleader, and promptly scurried back to class.

It wasn't until they reached the blonde's car that Rachel apparently recovered enough to find her voice.

"Quinn?" The cheerleader raised an eyebrow. "Where are we going?"

"My house," was the short reply.

"Are you entirely sure you want to be doing this? I mean, you could get in trouble with Principal Figgins for cutting class and with the student body for assisting a loser like me. Why would you—" The diva's long-winded questioning was cut off by Quinn.

"Just get in the car, Berry, before I change my mind."


	2. Chapter 2

The drive to the Fabray residence was quiet, with Quinn deliberately focused on the road and Rachel too lost in her own thoughts to ask more questions.

When the blonde parked her car in the driveway of a huge mansion, the brunette was so busy admiring the perfectly manicured lawn and sprawling grounds that she forgot to get out of the car. She was jolted back to the situation when Quinn cleared her throat, a smirk on her lips. Blushing, Rachel alighted from the car, the blonde holding open the door.

The mansion's interior was no less pristine than its exterior. Rare paintings hung on the walls in extravagant frames and impressive statues loomed in the corners. It looked perfect, but unreal—cold, somehow.

_Even the sofa in the sitting room looks expensive and uncomfortable_  Rachel thought.  _Like no one lives here._ She was again startled from her thoughts by Quinn.

"Do you need something to eat or drink? Or maybe you need to sit down?" The blonde looked a bit concerned.  _Rachel is a lot of things, but "spacey" and "quiet" she is not._  The girl in question blushed again and shook her head. Quinn shrugged, and continued leading them through the house. They stopped at a door on the second floor, the cheerleader gesturing for Rachel to go first.

The brunette was surprised when she opened the door and saw only a flight of stairs. She had been expecting this to be Quinn's room.

Confused, she began, "Is this…?"

"Just keep going, Berry."

At the top of the stairs, Rachel gasped.

"So…this is my room," the blonde stated nonchalantly. Rachel's eyes were huge. This wasn't a simple bedroom—this was an  _apartment_.

The main room was set up somewhat like a studio. In one corner was a little kitchen area, complete with a breakfast nook. A nearby alcove hosted a window seat and some exercise equipment. The other side of the room had a widescreen television, a gigantic stereo, a couch, beanbag chairs, and a coffee table. The center of the room held a pool table.

"This is all  _yours_?" the brunette asked incredulously. Quinn shrugged.

"Want to see the rest?"

"There's  _more_?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and walked down the short hallway to the second room. It was almost as large as the previous space, but had a very different feel. Whereas the other room was that of a spoiled rich kid with overindulgent parents, this room belonged to an artist. A large bed was pushed to one side of the room, along with some bookcases and a stereo, but that wasn't what grabbed the singer's attention. Like the first floor of the house, the walls were lined with art. Unlike the first floor, this art felt  _real_ , not merely expensive. There were lots of paintings and photographs everywhere. For some reason, an entire wall was made of frosted glass, with a glass door as well.

Spotting a few easels tucked away into a corner, Rachel gasped again.

"Quinn, did you…did you do these yourself?" The diva asked, awe in her voice, as she stared at the artwork.

Quinn fidgeted uncomfortably, nodding.

"They're incredible, Quinn! The photography too, or…?"

The cheerleader gestured to a door near the bed. Opening it partway, Rachel peered inside and saw that Quinn had turned a walk-in-closet into a darkroom. She closed the door and gaped at the blonde, who was studiously avoiding eye contact and rummaging through a second closet.

"Quinn, you're an amazing artist. Why don't you ever show anyone at school?"

Ignoring the question, Quinn held out a change of clothes to the brunette.

"You can change in the bathroom. You can shower in there too, if you want," the blonde offered, pointing to the glass door. "The glass is distorted enough that no one can really see through it. But there's a normal bathroom on the second floor if you're uncomfortable—"

Rachel shook her head and accepted the clothes.

"Thank you, Quinn. I will admit that I don't understand why you are doing this, but I am very grateful for your assistance." Rachel smiled warmly, albeit tentatively, at Quinn.

"You don't need to thank me, Berry—er, Rachel," the blonde artist replied brusquely. "I've treated you like crap. I've called you awful names and I've been the one to slushy you before. And I'm really, really sorry about that. It was wrong of me and I'm so sorry."

The diva was stunned by the cheerleader's apology.  _I never thought there would be a day when_ Quinn Fabray _of all people would admit that she had been wrong. A day when the_ head cheerleader _would apologize to_ me _._  Rachel's smile intensified, and Quinn resisted the sudden urge to hug the other girl.

Shaking her head, Quinn turned away and started fidgeting with the stereo as she heard Rachel run the water in the shower. The blonde deliberately refused to look at the glass wall. She hadn't lied when she had told Rachel that the distortions in the glass prevented her from seeing through, but she could still see the petite singer's silhouette and Quinn wanted to give Rachel the privacy and dignity she deserved. The taller girl chuckled to herself when she heard Rachel singing along with the radio, her voice ten times better than the original.

She was about to leave the room when the water stopped and Rachel called out.

"Excuse me? Quinn? Do you have a towel I may use?" brunette inquired.

_Shit. I completely forgot._

Going to the linen closet, Quinn picked out the fluffiest towel and went to the glass door.

"I'm, ah, I'll just leave it here by the door," Quinn offered, hoping that the brunette would get it once Quinn was in the main room.  _I really, really don't want to have to go in the bathroom when Berry is in the shower_.

"Quinn, the air is really cold. Could you please bring the towel into the bathroom and hand it to me?" The brunette reasoned, "Besides, we're both girls and I trust you." Content that Quinn would agree, the diva returned to belting out a pop song that would be annoying if it weren't Rachel's incredible singing.

_Maybe you shouldn't trust me._  Quinn ignored her internal voice.  _I'm being ridiculous. This is Rachel Berry, after all. I barely like her. I just feel bad about how I treated her and want to make amends. It's no big deal._

Taking a deep breath, Quinn grabbed the towel and opened the bathroom door.


	3. Chapter 3

The bathroom was just as luxurious as the rest of the house. Instead of a normal shower/tub combination, a Jacuzzi bath rested on a slight platform in one corner of the room. In the adjacent corner was the large, state-of-the-art glass shower. Quinn had never realized before just how transparent frosted glass really was. Blushing furiously, she knocked on the door of the shower, expecting Rachel to stick her hand out.

Instead, the door swung open a little too much, and Quinn caught a quick glance of tanned skin and long legs and felt her throat go dry.

"Thank you so much!" The singer beamed, but frowned slightly when she saw how tense the other girl was. "Are you okay? Your face is really red. Do you have a fever?" Rachel reached out to feel Quinn's forehead, but the blonde stumbled back and quickly left the room, mumbling how she was fine.

Rachel watched her go, confused, hoping that Quinn was alright.

In the main room of the apartment, Quinn sank onto the couch, trying to calm her breathing. Her face was flushed and her whole body felt hot, especially her chest and…No. Impossible.  _It's probably just because of the steam from the shower, that's all. Nothing to read into with this._

Trying to ignore the lingering bit of doubt in her mind, Quinn turned on this room's radio and decided to make lunch, realizing that, due to the slushy incident, neither girl had eaten properly.

* * *

Exiting the shower, Rachel smelled something delicious. Wrapping the towel around herself, she padded into the main room, smiling as she heard Quinn singing softly to herself as she cooked.

"You have a lovely voice, Quinn," the brunette commented. "And whatever you're cooking smells fantastic."  _And you are the prettiest, most gorgeous girl I have ever met_ she thought but did not say.

Quinn turned, her playful smirk faltering slightly as she saw what Rachel was—or wasn't, rather—wearing. The blonde busied herself with turning off the stove and dishing the vegan stir fry onto two plates and setting them on the counter.

"It's completely vegan," the cheerleader assured the singer as they both perched on the bar stools and dug in, talking and joking.

 _Quinn has changed so much in the past few years_  the brunette mused.  _She's…more understanding now, more thoughtful. Maybe we can finally be friends…or perhaps more…No. Don't go there; don't expect too much or you'll scare her off. Focus on an attainable goal, like winning a Tony or being Quinn Fabray's friend._

It wasn't until she had put the plates in the sink and brought out a bowl of fruit—because honestly, Quinn wasn't a vegan and didn't know what else they could have for dessert—that Quinn finally asked, "So, Rachel, why aren't you wearing the clothes I gave you? Do you not like them or are they too big or…?"

The diva laughed warmly at the slight sound of worry in the other girl's voice. "No, the clothes are excellent. I just didn't want to put them on until my hair dries. I don't want to get them wet. It's just something I've always done."

The blonde swallowed and nodded, forcing herself to act normal. "As long as everything is okay," she replied lightly.

"Everything is more than okay," Rachel answered sincerely, causing Quinn to pause and look into her eyes. Chocolate ones met hazel as the brunette placed her hand over Quinn's, ignoring the fluttery feeling in her stomach as she did so. "I am thrilled that you and I are able to move on from our previous enmity and forge what I am sure will become a wonderful friendship."

 _Too much too close much too close_  Quinn's mind babbled as she pulled her hand away.

"What makes you think we're friends now, Berry?" she demanded gruffly, breaking eye contact.

"Oh…I'm sorry…I just thought…" The blonde felt a stab of guilt as she felt Rachel wilt beside her.

Quinn sighed. "No, I'm sorry. You're right; I would like us to be…friends," she admitted.  _Or more than friends._ Again Quinn tried to push away the thought.

The singer visibly brightened and leaped from her stool. Pulling Quinn as well, Rachel wrapped her arms around the taller girl's waist in an enthusiastic hug, almost knocking her over.

Hesitating at first, Quinn returned the hug, retaliating by spinning the petite brunette around, both of them laughing and shrieking in joy.

After Quinn set her down, Rachel realized her towel had come loose, though the girls were still hugging enough that it hadn't fallen off. Blushing, she tried to fix it but Quinn beat her to it.

Rachel was unable to look away from those beautiful hazel eyes as the blonde's slender fingers grazed across her chest, tucking the corner of the towel securely. Both girls' hearts were thumping wildly as Quinn's hand moved to Rachel's cheek, again brushing a lock of brown hair behind her ear.

Later, neither girl would be able to recall who had initiated the kiss, but they liked to think that it was mutual. Rachel tilted her head up as Quinn leaned down, until finally, their lips met.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—not the past, not their reputations, nothing but how soft Quinn's mouth was and how Rachel's lips tasted like cherries and how everything felt so, so right.

Their first kiss was sweet and perfect and better than either had ever dared to hope.

When they broke apart, both a little out of breath, the only thing Quinn could think to say was, "Do you want to stay for dinner?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, as you've probably noticed, not everything in my story is canon, mostly about the various relationships between the characters, but there is a change that I'd like to note. In this story, Quinn and Santana are co-captains of the Cheerios, not Becky Jackson, though Becky is still a cheerleader. Other minor things have probably changed as well, since I've been reading so much fanfiction that I don't always remember what is canon and what is not.

It had been over a week since their first kiss before Quinn asked Rachel to her house again, this time for a sleepover, leaning over during glee club to whisper the invitation into the brunette's ear. Rachel, surprised, nodded her agreement almost instantly. The blonde head cheerleader, shrugging at the questioning glance Santana sent her, settled back in her seat with a satisfied smirk that masked the twinge of nervousness she felt.  _What happens now?_

After that night last week, the girls hadn't spoken much beyond simple greetings, though Quinn made an effort to smile when she passed Rachel in the halls, instead of ignoring her or delivering a trademark insult. The blonde knew that even that slight change in behavior had been noticed by Santana, though the Latina hadn't actually mentioned it yet. Quinn was relieved that Rachel had agreed that it would be best to not discuss this—whatever _this_  was—at school.

Unfortunately, the blonde hadn't been able to talk to Rachel outside of school either, since Coach Sylvester had run the Cheerios ragged every day after school to make up for the day practice had been cancelled due to a mysterious reason that none of the girls quite understood. In fact, Coach had cancelled  _every_  Thursday night practice for the rest of the season. Rumors as to the cause of this change swirled, and Quinn heard everything from "Coach Sylvester joined a cult" to "She finally got a life!"

No matter the cause, Quinn was happy; the schedule change had allowed her to have last week's afternoon and evening with Rachel. The blonde smiled, remembering.

* * *

_After the kiss—the amazing, incredible, unbelievable kiss—neither girl was quite sure how to proceed. Rachel called her dads to let them know that she would be having dinner at the Fabray residence, briefly explaining that Quinn had been the one helping her after the slushy, not the one throwing it in her face._

_Hanging up the phone, Rachel realized that she still was not wearing proper clothes. Quinn seemed to notice at the same moment, and both girls flushed as Rachel went to the bathroom to change into the t-shirt and sweatpants the blonde had provided._

_After the brunette was properly dressed, the awkwardness slowly faded. Sometime after a dinner of veggie burgers—seriously, Quinn's vegan recipe knowledge was limited—the two didn't even need to talk. They simply sat together on the couch, the shorter girl resting her head on the other girl's shoulder as some movie Quinn didn't care about played._

_The blonde was too busy watching the petite girl beside her to notice when the end credits started to roll, until Rachel looked up to ask how she liked the movie. Quinn blinked, sheepishly admitting that she hadn't paid any attention to the film, and the brunette's eyes widened as she realized that Quinn had been staring at her instead._

_Embarrassed that she had been found out, Quinn muttered an apology and tried to look away but was stopped by delicate yet firm fingers._

" _Please look at me, Quinn," Rachel pleaded. "You have lovely eyes and I want to see them."_

_This time it was Rachel who swept aside a lock of short blonde hair as she placed a kiss on the other girl's lips, lightly at first but with increasing intensity. Quinn moaned quietly when Rachel ran her fingers through her blonde hair. The diva cradled the back of the cheerleader's head, pulling her closer until they both fell backward on the sofa, only stopping when Rachel's phone rang. Panting slightly, she apologized to her father for losing track of time and hastily gathered her things._

_Quinn ran a hand through her tousled blonde locks, a bit embarrassed at how passionate the kissing had gotten and offered to drive the brunette home. Afraid that she had pushed Rachel too far, the cheerleader was pleasantly surprised when the singer seemed a bit disappointed when her goodnight kiss was only a quick peck on the cheek. Grinning playfully, the blonde promised that they would talk later._

* * *

Quinn's memory of that night was interrupted by a tactless Finn Hudson.

"Quinn? You totally just spaced out. Are you okay?" asked the quarterback, peering at her with concern. The girl fought the urge to snap at the boy.

"I'm fine," she said curtly. "I can take care of myself. You don't need to look at me like that."  _It's only cute when Rachel does it._

"Oh. Uh, sorry I guess?" Finn mumbled, confused by her lack of appreciation for his awesome observational skills.

"Sorry Finnept, but Q doesn't speak whale. Go to an aquarium if you want to talk to something more on your level."

Quinn snorted at the look on Finn's face as he glared at Santana before storming out. Quinn, shooting the Latina a look of gratitude, didn't miss her best friend's raised eyebrow, knowing that she too was worried about Quinn's odd behavior recently. As the rest of glee club filtered out of the room, the Cheerio co-captains were locked in an intense silent conversation with their eyes until Brittany murmured something in the Latina's ear and interlaced their pinkies. After sending the shorter blonde one more quizzical look, Santana allowed herself to be pulled out of the room by her girlfriend.

"I have to cheer at the football game tonight, but I'll pick you up after?" Quinn asked once she and Rachel were alone.

The brunette smiled. "Actually, I was thinking I'd attend the game and you could just take me home with you."

Hazel eyes widened. "Are you sure, Rach? Football's not exactly your thing…"

Pushing aside the butterflies surging through her at the nickname, the diva took a step toward the blonde and slowly looked her up and down. "I wasn't really planning on watching the game…"

"Oh really?" the blonde inquired, lifting an eyebrow.

Matching Quinn's smirk with one of her own, the brunette took another step closer to whisper into the blonde's ear. "Why pay attention to the football when there's this totally hot head cheerleader?"

The cheerleader felt her entire body flush, from both Rachel's words and her closeness.  _Calm down, Fabray. You haven't even been on one real date yet, and you're already about to jump Rachel's bones._

Struggling to maintain her usually cool composure, Quinn's voice rasped slightly as she asked, "Is that right?" and leaned down, hazel eyes dark.

Just as her lips were about to make contact with Rachel's, the diva pulled back and danced away. Bewildered, the blonde was about to demand why Rachel had moved when the brunette in question again whispered in her ear, this time from behind.

"Yup, Santana  _is_  really hot," Rachel teased.

Quinn's eyes flew open as she wheeled around.

"See you after the game!" The singer ran out of the room, laughing at the blonde's outraged expression.

Quinn stared at the diva as she went, shaking her head ruefully.


	5. Chapter 5

_I have nothing to wear_ , Rachel thought desperately as she flung open her closet doors.

For all that she had playfully teased Quinn earlier, the brunette was nervous about spending the night at the cheerleader's house.  _What does Quinn have planned? What is she expecting?_

Rachel was aware of the fact that her usual manner of dress sometimes earned criticism from fellow McKinley students, and she was determined to look good tonight—really good. Worthy of Quinn Fabray good. At the same time, the diva did not want to be overdressed for the occasion. No more "sad clown hooker" outfits, as Finn had once described her attire. She shuddered, remembering the ridiculous way she had fought for the attention of the insensitive football player.

Still inspecting every item of clothing in her possession, the singer wished, not for the first time since she and Quinn had kissed, that she could ask someone for advice.  _I need Kurt and his fashion sense._

After what seemed like an endless amount of fretting—her dads had checked on her once, only to quickly shut the door again when they were almost hit by a pair of heels being flung across the room—Rachel had finally pieced together an outfit she deemed suitable for the occasion.

* * *

"Hey Q, we gots to talk after the game tonight. You've been weird all week," Santana informed her co-captain and best friend. Switching her cell phone to the opposite hand, she continued, "And I mean even weirder than usual. Like seriously, what's up? You know you can talk to me, right?"

"I'm fine Santana. As I already told Finn, I can take care of myself," Quinn replied lightly. She appreciated the other girl's concern, and Santana was the obvious person to confide in when it came to this situation, but Quinn didn't want to say anything until she talked to Rachel. "Besides S, wouldn't you rather spend your time with Britt? I know you haven't gotten much alone time with her this week thanks to all the extra practices. Coach is trying to kill us or something."

The Latina, knowing that the blonde was trying to change the subject, grinned wickedly as she replied. "Oh don't worry 'bout me and Britt, she's worried about you too. We'll  _both_  be over later tonight, and you can explain what's been going on. It'll be like the old days when we had slumber parties all the time."

"Uh, I don't think tonight is going to work out…"

"And why's that?" Santana demanded. In a softer voice, the girl added, "I know your mom's still not really around, and you shouldn't have to be alone."

The blonde choked up a bit at this and almost gave in before remembering the other brunette who was supposed to be staying over. "Look S, I appreciate that you care, and we do need to catch up, I just don't think tonight is a good time."

"Because…?"

"Because…because Rachel is already coming over," Quinn mumbled.

This news surprised the other girl, but she recovered quickly. "Oh. Well that's good, I guess. Weird, but at least I know you aren't completely isolating yourself. I promise to be on my best behavior. I won't even call her Hobbit or Man Hands. Britt and I will still be there, though."

"I don't—"

"We'll be there around ten."

"But—" Santana cut off the artist's protests.

"See you after the game!" The Latina shouted, chuckling evilly as she ended the call.

Quinn rolled her eyes at this, remembering the last thing Rachel had said before she had exited the choir room earlier. For all they fought, the brunettes in her life really did share some similarities. Like her house, tonight.  _Oh shit._

* * *

Santana's eyes closed as she felt strong arms wrap around her waist. When she felt gentle kisses being peppered along her neck and shoulder, the girl known for flaunting her bitchiness let out a soft moan and sank into the body behind her, warmth spreading throughout her body. Tilting her head back, she lovingly kissed her blonde dancer.

Breaking the kiss, the Latina turned around completely to face her girlfriend. "Hey B, what was that for?"

The tall blonde smiled happily at her. "I love you, Sanny."

Santana grinned and held the other girl closer, nuzzling into her neck. "I love you too, Britt-Britt."

"I'm glad we don't have to hide it anymore like Quinn and Rachel," the blue-eyed cheerleader murmured absently.

The Latina pulled back abruptly. "What are you talking about, Britt? Quinn and Rachel are just friends—and even that's new."

The dancer shook her head. "Maybe they just started being friends, but they love each other, like how we love each other, only not because they're not us," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, while leading her stunned girlfriend to the couch.

The brunette frowned, piecing together all the ways Quinn had acted towards Rachel, especially the past few days. She supposed it  _could_  be possible…

The last thought Santana had before giving into Brittany's kisses was,  _Well, this sleepover tonight is going to be very interesting._


	6. Chapter 6

When Quinn saw Rachel in the stands, she almost forgot the routine. Her hesitation was long enough to cause Santana and Brittany to crash into her.

"Q, what the hell?" demanded Santana angrily. She followed her best friend's stare and smirked.  _Looks like Britt might be right after all. But that was no excuse for messing up the routine._  "Stop drooling over Berry and get your act together before Coach—"

The Latina never got to finish that sentence. A piercing whistle shrieked loudly, followed by the all-too-familiar sound of Coach Sylvester's blow horn. All the Cheerios winced.

"Why are my co-captains standing around chatting instead of doing their jobs? You think this is hard? Try giving birth in shark-infested water; that's hard! Q! S! Get your acts together!"

"Yes Coach!" The cheerleaders resumed their cheers, despite the fact that the football team was down by fourteen points and it was only the first quarter.

Santana glared daggers at Quinn, who smiled apologetically, her face burning. Brittany laid a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder, stopping her from saying anything more.

At her seat on the bleachers, Rachel was shaking in silent laughter, a hand masking the grin on her face.  _I hope this means that Quinn appreciates my outfit. Though truly, I had not expected such a dramatic reaction. I thought my attire was entirely normal for a high school football game_. The diva glanced down at her dark skinny jeans and red-and-black plaid shirt.

In fact, the tiny brunette's clothing was typical for a teenage girl, which is exactly why Quinn had been surprised. The cheerleader had never seen Rachel in anything other than her usual skirts and animal sweaters, and the occasional formal dress. While Quinn always thought Rachel was beautiful, there was just something different about these clothes.

Shrugging, the singer settled back to enjoy the show.

On the sidelines, Quinn felt eyes on her. Scanning the crowd, she saw Rachel staring at her, a playful smirk on her face, and took a deep breath. This was going to be a long game.

* * *

"Hey Q, Britt and I will be at your house in, like, an hour. I hate locker rooms. We're going to shower at my place and pick up a few things first," Santana informed Quinn as all three girls were gathering their belongings.

Quinn shook her head, resigned, as her two best friends left together.  _Sometimes, fighting Santana just isn't worth it_ , she thought.  _And she does have a point—communal showers are kind of gross. Hopefully Rachel won't mind…_

Deciding to shower at her house, Quinn grabbed her bag and exited the locker room, only to run into directly into the diva.

"Oh my God Quinn I'm so sorry!" Rachel exclaimed, reaching out to steady the blonde.

The cheerleader felt her heart race at the brunette's touch. "No it's my fault; I should have looked where I was going."

Rachel's hand rested on Quinn's arm a moment longer than necessary.

Suddenly they heard the voices of younger Cheerios as the locker room door opened again, and the singer let go.  _Don't embarrass the head cheerleader in front of her squad_ , Rachel reprimanded herself.

"Let's get out of here," Quinn suggested. "I'll drive?"

The diva agreed, relieved that the other girl was not upset. Quinn surprised both of them when—on impulse—she reached for Rachel's hand and led them to her car.

* * *

The drive home was comfortably quiet until, pulling into the driveway, Rachel said, "I'm really glad we will finally be able to talk privately, just the two of us, about what happened last week."

Quinn cursed internally.  _Shit. I forgot to tell Rachel._

"Um, Rachel? There's something I need to tell you..." Quinn mumbled guiltily.

Rachel's heart plummeted. "I understand, Quinn," she whispered. "You would prefer if we simply remain friends. Though it is not what I had wished, I would never pressure you into something that makes you uncomfortable, and I will respect your decision. However, I do not think I should be around you tonight, knowing that you only invited me out of pity. I knew this was too good to be true." The diva fought back tears.

Quinn blinked, trying to process everything the other girl had said. Rachel, taking her silence for agreement, reached for the car door.

"Wait!" yelled the blonde, finally realizing what Rachel thought she wanted to say. "Rachel, that's not what I needed to tell you!"

The brunette hesitated.

"Rachel, please look at me. Don't go." The desperation in Quinn's voice made the other girl turn.

"What is it, then? What did you need to say?" she asked quietly.

"I…I just wanted to tell you that Santana and Brittany are coming over later. They kind of invited themselves, and I forgot to tell you," Quinn admitted sheepishly.

"Oh…" Rachel flushed, completely embarrassed. "I…I apologize for my assumptions, Quinn. I just thought…"

The blonde squeezed the diva's hand reassuringly and wiped a tear from her cheek. Slender fingers grazed the corner of her mouth, and Rachel parted her lips as Quinn leaned in…

The cheerleader pulled back abruptly.

"Come on, let's go inside. I have to shower before Santana and Brittany get here." She jumped out of the car and practically ran to the house. The singer followed her, confused and slightly out of breath.

* * *

Rachel was flipping through television channels when she heard Quinn's phone vibrate. The brunette tried to ignore it, as the blonde was still in the shower, but the phone kept buzzing. Finally, Rachel decided to just answer.

There were four new text messages from "Satan" Lopez, all demanding that Quinn "Open the goddamn door before Britt gets pneumonia."

As the singer laughed, a new message came through, reading, "Q, I do not care if B is right and you are making sweet passionate love to Yentl right now. It's fucking freezing outside! OPEN THE DOOR."

Rachel's eyes widened and she ran downstairs to let Brittany and Santana inside, wondering,  _What did Quinn tell them?_

* * *

Plastering a stage smile on her face, Rachel opened the door.

"Jesus, Q, what took so—oh. Hi Berry. Where's Quinn? Did your annoying rants drive her to suicide already?" Santana asked as she breezed inside.

"Sanny, you promised to be nice. Hi, Rachel!" Brittany beamed at the diva, who returned the look with a genuine, though smaller, smile of her own.

"That was nice!" protested Santana as all three trooped to the third floor. "I didn't call her Hobbit, or Dwarf, or Man Hands…Ow!" Rachel smothered a laugh as the Latina rubbed where Brittany had elbowed her. Santana flopped on the couch, sulking. The blonde dancer sat next to her and kissed her cheek, wiping the pout off her girlfriend's face.

Rachel stood awkwardly by the wall as the cheerleaders made up.

"I'm, ah, I'm going to go check on Quinn…" she said, edging toward Quinn's bedroom.

Santana waved a hand dismissively.

"Ask her what food she has!" Brittany suggested.

Rachel merely nodded and slipped into the hallway.

* * *

"Come in!" called Quinn, hearing the knock on the door as she finished towel-drying her hair. Her grin faded as she took in Rachel's anxious demeanor.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" the blonde asked, motioning for the singer to sit next to her on the bed.

Staring at her lap, Rachel replied, "Nothing happened, exactly…Brittany and Santana have arrived, though…"

Quinn shot up from the bed, almost knocking over a stray art easel. "Did Santana say something rude to you? She promised to behave! If she did something to hurt you I'll—"

The brunette reached for the artist's arm, keeping her from charging into the main room and confronting the Latina.

"Wait! Santana didn't say anything any more offensive to me than usual, and Brittany chastised her."

Quinn sank back onto the bed. "Then what's bothering you, Rach? Something happened."

"Did you…did you tell anyone? About last week?" Rachel looked at the other girl, biting her lip.

"What? No, I didn't. Why do you ask?" The blonde frowned.

The diva hesitated. "Well, your phone wouldn't stop buzzing, so finally I opened it and you had several texts from Santana. They essentially all said that she was outside and wanted you to open the door for her and Brittany, though with much stronger language than strictly necessary."

Quinn's brow furrowed in confusion. "Okay…Why was that a problem? I know you've heard curse words before; we go to public high school. Or were you worried that you shouldn't have checked my phone without my permission? Because while I would prefer that you ask first, it's really not a big deal…"

Rachel shook her head and handed the other girl the cell phone. Both blushed as Quinn read the text message from Santana aloud: "Q, I do not care if B is right and you are making sweet passionate love to Yentl right now. It's fucking freezing outside! OPEN THE DOOR."

There was silence for a moment.

Quinn finally spoke. "I didn't say anything to Santana, Brittany, or anyone else. I didn't want to assume…I never…I wanted to talk with you first, Rachel. I'm sorry if Santana's text made you uncomfortable. I never meant for you to feel like I was expecting anything more…"

"What if I want there to be more?" the brunette whispered.

Hazel eyes flew open, and Quinn's heart thumped wildly. "Rachel, are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured. We don't have to—"

Rachel silenced the other girl with a kiss, both closing their eyes. The diva ran her fingers through short, slightly damp blonde hair, deepening the kiss. For her part, the cheerleading artist rested her hands on the singer's hips, pulling her closer.

Suddenly, the door banged open and the girls sprang apart.

Brittany and Santana stood in the doorway.

"They're so cute, San!" The bubbly blonde clapped her hands excitedly.

"Well, looks like you were right after all, B. Berry's totally gay for Fabray." The Latina smirked.

"Do mind?" Quinn demanded, trying to flatten her now-messy hair.

"Actually, I do. Britt-Britt's hungry and so am I and we wants some food. But at least I know why you didn't want us to come over tonight." Santana replied, chuckling at the dark glare her best friend sent her.

Quinn rolled her eyes and got up. "I've got some vegan pizza in the fridge that I just need to heat up." Ignoring the second part of her friend's comment, she sent an apologetic look to Rachel and helped her to her feet.

"Ugh. Vegan pizza? Really, Q? I don't care if you're trying to get into Berry's pants by impressing her with this; it better not taste like crap," warned the feisty co-captain.

Rachel looked offended. "Santana, I assure you, vegan pizza is delicious! And soy cheese prevents the abuse of poor defenseless cows that is inherent in the modern agribusiness."

"Regular cheese hurts cows?" Brittany asked, distressed.

The diva nodded.

The dancer gasped. "Sanny, we have to save the cows! We should be vegans too!" she declared.

Quinn herded the other cheerleaders out of the room before Santana could kill Rachel. Inwardly, the artist agreed with the Latina—cheese and bacon were the best foods ever—but she would be damned if she let anyone hurt her diva.

_Since when did I think of her as mine?_  wondered the blonde.

As she followed her friends, who were arguing over the merits of veganism, Quinn felt Rachel touch her waist.

Leaning into the blonde's ear, the diva murmured, "In case you were wondering: I am impressed by the effort you've made for me. Very impressed."

With a slight nip to Quinn's ear, Rachel continued down the hall to rejoin the others, and Quinn was reasonably sure that this girl would be the death of her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sorry for the delay. School's a bit crazy this year, so I haven't had much time to write, but I'm still going to continue with the story if you guys want. This chapter's not that long (my standard chapter length seems to be somewhere around 1,000 or so) but right now I'm still kind of setting things up. Again, thank you so much for all the alerts and reviews! I love reading your suggestions, and of course the compliments are nice confidence-boosters! I never really expected people to read my stuff!

"Okay guys, food's ready!" Quinn announced, pulling the pizza out of the oven.

"Yay! I'm starved!" Brittany happily pirouetted into the kitchen, followed by the two brunettes. They all grabbed plates, cups, and soda and brought everything to the living-room area of Quinn's attic-apartment. The blonde head cheerleader set the pizza on the coffee table, and Brittany clapped excitedly.

The dancer's enthusiasm was infectious, and soon they were all happily digging in.

"Quinn, this is delicious! Thank you for taking the time to find and create such a wonderful, vegan-friendly meal. I—and the cows—appreciate it very much." The artist blushed under Rachel's praise.

Brittany beamed and nodded her agreement. "It's so good! And now the cows are happy too! Everything should be vegan!"

"I don't know about all that, but the food isn't as terrible as I expected," Santana added.

Quinn rolled her eyes at this, knowing that her best friend was already polishing off her second slice. The Latina grinned.

When the pizza was gone, Rachel offered to clean up the dishes, insisting, "It's the least I can do, since you made dinner and are allowing us all to stay at your house tonight."

"Just let her do it, Fabray," advised Santana when Quinn protested.

Brittany backed her girlfriend up. "Yeah Quinn, Tana always washes the dishes when we eat together. Besides, the dishwasher is confusing. You have to remember to put soap in, but if you use too much, bubbles get everywhere! That's why when Sanny isn't there, Lord Tubbington does my chores."

The other cheerleaders stared at her, not sure how to react. Rachel took this opportunity to gather their plates, humming to herself as she loaded the dishwasher.

A few minutes later, the singer was joined by her— _girlfriend? Friends with benefits? Moment of teenage rebellion and experimentation? What am I to Quinn?_

"Girlfriend."

Rachel spun to face the blonde artist. "What?" the brunette sputtered.  _Did she just read my mind?_

"I asked if you wanted to be my…girlfriend," Quinn repeated shyly. "You don't have to say yes. We can just go back to before…" She bit her lip, and it was both the sexiest and cutest thing Rachel had ever seen.

The diva cupped the other girl's cheek and pulled her down for a soft kiss.

_This really is an effective way to get me to shut up_ , the blonde thought.

When they parted, the brunette looked into bright hazel eyes and said firmly, "Quinn Fabray, I would love to be your girlfriend."

They kissed again, this time more deeply, until they heard a throat clear.

"Jesus, Q, get a room! Britt and I were only gone for a minute!" Santana snickered.

Quinn, flushed, snapped, "This  _is_  my room! It's not my fault you and Brittany invited yourselves over!"

"You're still almost as bad as Puckerman," the Latina retorted.

Rachel saw her girlfriend's jaw clench, and quickly stepped between the head cheerleaders.

"I didn't ask you to come!" muttered the blonde captain.

Santana scoffed. "Why? Were you planning on doing the nasty with Berry tonight? Baby-gate aside, I thought you were all chaste and innocent and shit."

Thankfully, Brittany broke the tension. She skipped into the room, oblivious to the argument between the best friends.

"Guess what I found in my car!" The blonde dancer held up a DVD case triumphantly. " _Step Up_! Can we watch it? Pretty please?"

"I don't know, Britt-Britt. Apparently Q doesn't want us here," Santana replied, shooting Quinn a glare.

Brittany's smile turned into a sad pout. "You don't want us? But I thought we were friends?"

Seeing the hurt in the other blonde's face, Quinn's anger dissipated.

"We are friends, Britt. I'm sorry for acting like jerk, and I do want you here. Sure, we can watch  _Step Up_. We can even use the theater downstairs if you want," she offered Brittany.

The smile returned instantly, and the taller blonde tackled Quinn with a hug. The blue-eyed girl then pecked the other blonde on the cheek before grabbing Rachel's hand and leading her down several flights of stairs, chattering about how it was one of the best movies ever.

Santana started to follow them.

"S, wait!" Quinn called.

The Latina turned, arms crossed, but the blonde just stared at the ground.

"Were you going to say something, Q? Or just yell at me some more?" she demanded.

Quinn shuffled her feet. "Yes…no…um…I…"

"Just spit it out already, Fabray!"

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," admitted the hazel-eyed girl. "You are my friend, and I do like hanging out with you."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Oh, I know, Fabray. And I guess I was out of line too. You're not as bad as Puck, and you can do whatever—and whoever—you want."

"No, you were right. Well, sort of," Quinn amended. "Not about the Puck thing. But about the…" she trailed off.

"Sex?" prompted the Latina.

The blonde blushed, but nodded. "Yeah…about the sex. You were right. I'm not as innocent and naïve as I was sophomore year, and I don't necessarily think you have to wait until marriage, but I still want sex to mean something. When I asked Rachel over tonight…I don't know what I was expecting. I wasn't really thinking clearly, and I might've…rushed into something I wasn't ready for."

"Have you talked to Frannie about this?" the other girl asked tentatively.

Quinn shook her head vigorously. "No. It's not important. Besides, Frannie left me for a reason. Why would she care?"

The Latina's brow furrowed. "She left  _Lima_ , Q. She left to get away from your  _dad_. She left so she wouldn't have to be around your  _mom_. She didn't leave  _you_. She loves you!"

"She did leave me! When she got on that plane, she didn't take me with her!" Quinn's shoulders sagged. "Look, I don't want to argue about this, okay? Let's not talk about Frannie."

When the other girl opened her mouth to protest, the blonde cut her off.

"Just…thank you, Santana. I'm glad you and Britt insisted on coming here, and thank you for preventing me from doing something I might regret." Quinn finally met her friend's gaze.

Santana's expression was uncharacteristically sympathetic and thoughtful. She looked at her understandingly. "Don't mention it, Fabray. We're partners. Not partners in that euphemism-for-gay-lovers way, but in the real meaning of the word. We understand each other. We're the head bitches. Co-captains. Best friends. Yeah, sometimes we fight, but other than Britt, there's no one I love more."

The Latina wrapped her tanned arms around the blonde, and Quinn squeezed back. Both may or may not have been blinking back tears. And it's possible that Santana's shirt would need to be dried—at least on the shoulder.

"And hey," Santana added, rubbing her best friends back. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here. I know how difficult figuring all this out can be. But for what it's worth, I think Rachel truly does care about you."

Quinn loved this aspect of the badass Latina, and truly appreciated when she let her guard down. The blonde knew that very few people ever saw this side of her best friend.

"Thank you, Santana. I'm sorry for before and…thank you," the artist said when they let go of each other.

Santana grinned and held out her hand. "Come on, Q. Let's go find our girls."


	8. Chapter 8

Rachel followed Brittany through the sprawling mansion, praying that the blonde knew what she was doing, especially since she hadn't bothered to turn on any lights. It seemed like they would never reach their destination, when suddenly Brittany stopped and flipped a switched. When the brunette blinked the spots out of her vision, she realized they were in a private theater, complete with three rows of theater seats in addition to a few sofas against the side walls. In the front of the room was a small stage, and above it was a projector screen.

The diva gaped.  _This is even nicer than my own basement_ , she marveled. "Brittany, is this really Quinn's?"

The dancer looked up from where she was setting up the projector. "Yeah, it's all hers, now. It used to be Frannie's too, but…" Brittany shrugged and went back to her task.

Rachel frowned. "Who's Frannie?"

"Q's sister."

"What happened to her?"

The tall blonde fidgeted uncomfortably under the brunette's gaze. "I can't tell you," she admitted.

The diva did not like that answer. "Why can't you tell me, Brittany? What happened?"

"Quinn should be the one to tell you," Brittany insisted.

"Tell her what?" asked the hazel-eyed blonde as she and Santana came down the stairs.

"Oh, nothing," replied the petite brunette.

To Rachel's relief, it appeared that the best friends had made up. The singer liked seeing her girlfriend—girlfriend!—happy, and didn't want to ruin the mood by bringing up a potentially painful topic, so she resolved to find out about Frannie at a later time.

Quinn merely grinned and pecked Rachel on the cheek. Santana did the same to Brittany.

"So, is the movie ready?" inquired the Latina, one arm slung across her girlfriend's waist.

Brittany nodded. "Yup, we're good to go."

"Hang on a second, let me make some popcorn first," Quinn suggested. Rachel turned and realized that the back of the room had an old-fashioned popcorn cart, fridge, and fully stocked concession stand.

"Don't let the flies in, Berry," teased Santana, as the other girl continued to gape at this display of the Fabray's wealth. The diva promptly shut her mouth, but instead of getting embarrassed, she just laughed along, seeing the lightheartedness in the Latina's eyes.  _This must be Santana's way of showing affection_.  _She does something similar with Quinn, and most of the people in Glee club other than Finn_.

"You alright there, Baby Streisand?" Santana asked, raising an eyebrow at the singer.  _Why the hell is Berry smiling so much?_

Rachel was beaming. "I'm perfectly alright, Santana. I'm just absorbing the fact that I'm actually spending Friday night here, with the three most popular girls in our school. I'm not covered in slushies, and while you still have yet to call me Rachel, at least you have refrained from the more insulting nicknames."

Hearing this, the Latina actually looked apologetic. "Yeah…about that. You know, the slushies and nicknames and stuff…it was stupid. Q and I will put the word out that you're off-limits from now on."

The diva's smile got impossibly wider at this, and with a nudge from Brittany, Santana added, "And I'm sorry for treating you like crap…Rachel."

Quinn almost snorted when she returned from the popcorn machine to see Rachel hugging Santana enthusiastically. The latter looked like a deer in headlights, awkwardly patting the shorter girl on the back. Quinn  _did_  snort when Brittany wrapped her arms around the both of them and somehow managed to lift them off the ground briefly. Apparently dance had given Britt crazy amounts of strength in her lean body.

"Hey, don't break my girlfriend, B. I need her in one piece!" the shorter blonde joked as she rejoined her friends, a tub of popcorn in each hand. Brittany set the other girls down and tackled Quinn in hug instead, spinning her around. Blonde hair and popcorn flew everywhere as the artist's shrieks were drowned out by the dancer's laughter.

Santana rolled her eyes playfully, smiling at their familiar antics. Nothing would ever beat that feeling of complete warmth that the Latina got every time she and Brittany were in bed—not having sex, just holding each other—and Brittany said, "I love you," but watching the love of her life and her best friend laugh together was a close second. They were currently partaking in a ridiculous popcorn fight, chasing each other around the basement. Still, Santana tore her eyes away from the blondes to glance at Rachel, and her eyes widened.

 _Holy shit. I know that look_ , Santana realized with a start.  _No one looks at someone like that unless they're at least_ starting _to fall. And I know Q is seriously into Rachel...God, Berry better not be screwing with Quinn's head…_

Feeling eyes on her, Rachel turned and met the Latina's stare. Her cheeks may have reddened slightly under the intensity, but the diva refused to look away. There was a challenge, almost, in that gaze, as if the cheerleader were searching for something.

After a moment, Santana nodded, breaking the tension, and Rachel couldn't help but feel that she had just passed some sort of test.

The Latina smirked to herself.  _Maybe something good is finally going to happen to Quinn. Maybe…maybe Rachel Berry will actually counter the head-fuck that is the Fabray family._

* * *

Several hours later, the four girls stretched and yawned as the movie credits played. Blinking as someone—Quinn, maybe?—flicked on the lights, all four surveyed the damage. Popcorn was strewn across the floor, pillows were thrown haphazardly, and there was a stain where Brittany had spilled her Coke when she had gotten up to dance during the movie. Even Rachel was impressed by the fact that the blonde knew every bit of choreography.

Santana ran a hand through her hair. "Uh, Q, do we need to…?" she asked, motioning to the mess.

Quinn shrugged. "Nah, we can always get it in the morning. I'm too tired to worry about it right now."

Brittany and Santana both covered Rachel's mouth when she tried to protest, earning a soft chuckle from Quinn, who extracted her girlfriend from her best friends' grip and placated her with a kiss on the forehead.

All four shuffled upstairs in the dark, trying to be stealthy and therefore managing to crash into what Santana was fairly certain was every single piece of furniture in the entire house. By the time they staggered into Quinn's little apartment, they were all thoroughly awake once more, and everyone but Brittany was nursing an injury of some sort. The ever-graceful dancer offered to get ice for her friends.

"I still don't get how you managed to hit your  _nose_ ," said Santana incredulously as she rubbed her foot.

Rachel flushed. "I…I'm not entirely sure. I think I ran into you when you stubbed your toe, and then I fell backward and tripped and…" The diva trailed off as the head cheerleaders cracked up, Quinn holding her side gingerly because she had hit her ribs on their trek through the mansion.

The tiny brunette glared at the two of them, pausing only to thank Brittany for the ice. Quinn, seeing the pout on her girlfriend's face, tried to control her laughter.

"Aw, come on Rach, don't sulk [giggle]. We're not laughing  _at_  you [giggle]! Besides [giggle] you have to admit [giggle] it's kinda funny." Quinn and Santana glanced at each other and dissolved into giggles again.

"I don't find it funny in the least, Quinn Fabray. It is quite embarrassing, and I had thought that you would no longer make fun of me and my hideous nose and stupid face..." Rachel's voice broke off, causing the cheerleaders to sober instantly.

"Rachel, what are you talking about?" Quinn asked, stunned.

The brunette sniffed. "I know very well how ugly my nose is, Quinn. Finn and Puck tolerated it, at best. I know I'm not nearly as pretty as you; I know you are worthy of someone so much better. I didn't expect you to lie and tell me I was pretty, but I had hoped that you would at least refrain from mentioning my looks."

Quinn thought her heart broke when she saw a tear escape Rachel's eye.

"You  _are_  pretty, Rachel," she insisted, cupping her cheek and forcing the Jewish girl to look her in the eye. "You are beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, radiant, luminescent…"

"Totally hot," Brittany suggested.

Quinn nodded. "That too. Listen to me, Rachel Barbara Berry: You are the prettiest girl  _I_  have ever met. Don't ever think anything about you could be ugly."

Rachel gulped. "Do you really think that?" she whispered, unsure.

Quinn leaned down and kissed her softly but firmly. "I do," confirmed the artist-cheerleader.

The diva smiled weakly at this, but had to ask, "So then, if you weren't laughing at the way I look…why were you laughing?"

"We were laughing at the  _situation_ , Berry. I mean, you flipped over  _backwards_  and somehow hit your  _nose_. I hit the same toe  _three_  times. Quinn hit her ribs when she knocked over a coatrack, and we didn't even know she  _had_  a coatrack. We're all a mess!" Santana explained, gesturing to them each in turn.

"Except for Britt," Quinn noted. Suddenly, everything seemed hilarious again, though this time, all four girls ended up clutching their sides and each other, gasping for breath as they reveled in the joy of being a little ridiculous with people they loved.

* * *

Sometime after they had calmed down enough to change into pajamas, the girls pushed aside the coffee table and set up their sleeping bags on Quinn's floor. They stayed up a few more hours, talking the way girls do during sleepovers. Something about the darkness, and probably also the sleep deprivation, made it easier to share things. They didn't give their entire life stories or anything, and not all the conversation was serious, but that wasn't necessary. And though the girls had started out at right angles from each other, by morning they were all overlapping; Quinn's arm was around Rachel's waist and Santana's face was nestled into Brittany's neck and Britt's legs overlapped with Quinn's and it was hard to tell what limbs belonged to which person.


	9. Chapter 9

"Lucy Quinn Fabray!" A shrill voice woke the girls up around 10:00 the next morning.

They sat up groggily, rubbing sleep out of their eyes, when suddenly realization hit Quinn and she sprang up and ran downstairs, Santana on her heels. Crashing sounds and muttering could be heard from the first floor.

Rachel turned to Brittany and asked, "What's going on?"

Brittany shrugged. "Let's go find out."

* * *

Meanwhile, on the main floor, Quinn was trailing behind her mother as Judy Fabray teetered through the house on impractical, fashionable heels. Quinn's expression was pained, and Santana winced every time Judy stumbled.  _This is from way more than a bad choice in footwear_ , the Latina thought to herself.

"Quinn, why is the house a mess? And why was the coatrack your great-aunt gave us on the ground?" demanded Mrs. Fabray. "Oh, never mind. Just have the maid pick it up when she comes in an hour. And have her dust the pool house—it's getting filthy in there."

"I can pick up the coatrack myself, Mom, really," Quinn offered. "And it's November. We're not even using the pool house. But wait, why can't you be the one to tell the maid?"

Judy Fabray faced her daughter for the first time since she arrived. "I cannot remind the incompetent maid of her duties because I am not staying. I just came to pick up a few things before I go."

"Oh…I thought…How long will you be gone?" Quinn asked.

Her mother resumed her march through the house, ascending the stairs to the second-floor. "I'm not sure yet; probably two weeks, at least. I'm taking the yacht out for a week to give myself a break, and then I'll be heading to Europe to talk to designers," she called over her shoulder as she opened the door to her master suite.

Santana saw her best friend stiffen, and she wanted to smack Mrs. Fabray.  _Seriously, what the fuck? Q's birthday is next week. How do you forget your own kid's eighteenth birthday?_  Outwardly, the Latina lightly touched her best friend's wrist. Quinn didn't acknowledge the contact, nor did she shrug it off. Her mother, either oblivious to or ignoring the tension, reached for an already-packed Louis Vuitton luggage bag with a wobbly hand.

Quinn sighed and picked up the suitcase, carrying it down the stairs as her mom gripped the railing. Once at the bottom, the elder Fabray turned once again to face her daughter, rummaging through her purse.

"Here," she said, pulling out an envelope of money. "Use this if you max out your credit card or go someplace that only accepts  _paper_." She shuddered, likely contemplating the awful, plebian locales that still required cash. Quinn accepted it mutely, her expression unreadable as Mrs. Fabray breezed unsteadily out the door, a taxi waiting.

As soon as she was gone, Santana turned to her co-captain. "Hey, you okay, Q?" she asked hesitantly.

Quinn shrugged, attempting to sound flippant. "Of course, S. I'm fine. You know how she is." Over the years, both cheerleaders had mastered the art of appearing aloof and in-control. Which is why Santana wasn't fooled for a second—they could read each other too well. Still, the Latina decided not to press the blonde.

"Right. Well, hows about we go wake up our girls and get some breakfast before we do something fun. And no more of that vegan crap, Fabray! I needs me some real food!" Santana grinned as hazel eyes rolled.

* * *

"They're coming!" hissed Rachel from her hiding spot on the second floor. She and Brittany quickly scrambled up the stairs to Quinn's apartment, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. It had been Britt's idea, though Rachel hadn't needed much convincing.

Safely back on Quinn's futon, the girls listened for signs of their girlfriends' approach. Hearing nothing, they assumed that the head Cheerios were still talking downstairs.

Brittany spoke first. "That was weird," she stated simply.

Rachel nodded. "Very weird, Britt. We didn't hear anything particularly damaging. I, for one, am a bit flummoxed as to what transpired. What upset Quinn?" The diva frowned.

"I think Q's mom was drinking again," the blonde explained. "Plus, she won't be here for Q's birthday next week." She said this matter-of-factly, but her blue eyes held sadness for her friend. Rachel gasped.

"What do you mean?" she demanded, appalled. "Drinking? It's only 10:00 in the morning! And how could Mrs. Fabray not be present for her own daughter's milestone birthday?"

The dancer shrugged. "Quinn's family isn't pink like mine."

The girl in question, along with Santana, appeared in the doorway as Rachel processed Brittany's words. She quickly rearranged her face into a more cheerful expression.

 _Why is Rachel so happy?_  Quinn wondered as she walked toward the brunette. Shaking her head, she sat between Brittany and Rachel on the futon and pecked the diva's lips. Santana jokingly sprawled herself across all three of them, laughing evilly as they tried to shove her off.

After a struggle, the Latina landed on her ass on the floor, pulling Britt with her and refusing to let go.

As they made eyes at each other, Quinn stood up and yelled, "I call the first shower!" She ran into the bathroom before Santana could recover, the sound of laughter and Spanish expletives trailing behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates; I use a different site more often, and I also took some time off because of stuff going on in my life. I'll try to be more consistent from now on.


	10. Chapter 10

"See you on Monday!" Brittany called, waving from her spot in Santana's car. "See ya, suckers!" the Latina shouted over her shoulder, sticking her fist out the window in a salute of sorts. Quinn and Rachel waved, watching as the black SUV sped down the street blasting Spanish music.

The blonde head Cheerio rolled her eyes, knowing that Santana had purposefully left immediately after breakfast to avoid cleanup duty. Rachel laughed.

Once inside the Fabray mansion again, the remaining two girls went about gathering all of Rachel's belongings and righting the furniture they had knocked over the previous night. Or at least they tried. The cleaning process took longer than usual for Quinn, as every time Rachel bent over to pick something up, or even just turned around, the blonde couldn't help but stop and stare.  _She's so beautiful. The way the sunlight reflects off her hair…and her smile…and her legs…oh God, her legs…_

Once she noticed, Rachel started bending over a little more sensuously, just to see what Quinn would do. The diva thought she was being subtle, but after a while, the cheerleader spoke up.

"You really need to stop doing that, Rach."

The brunette was pleased to note the slight hoarseness in Quinn's voice, but her smirk faded when she turned and the other girl was mere inches away. The shorter girl shivered when she felt delicate hands rest on her waist.

"Look at me, Rachel." Though barely more than a whisper, there were traces of the no-nonsense Head Cheerio in that command, along with something else Rachel had rarely heard. She looked up.

In Quinn's hazel eyes, the singer saw the focus and guardedness she had noticed the first time she met the cheerleader. She also saw hints of a smile—a real smile, the kind Rachel had only ever seen when Quinn was with Santana and Brittany. Most importantly, Rachel saw—or, rather, felt—an intensity in the other girl's gaze, unfamiliar and almost overwhelming.

The brunette's lips parted in a silent gasp, and the corners of Quinn's mouth curved up as she bent down to kiss her girlfriend. Slender fingers tangled in soft hair. Hips pressed impossibly close. In that moment, if you asked either girl to define  _perfect_ , it would be this—this amazing, exhilarating experience of belonging with someone.

"Sorry, sorry! I come back later! I sorry!"

The teenagers sprang apart, flushed, at the sound of heavily-accented broken English. Rachel didn't know who was more embarrassed, herself or the young blonde maid currently cringing at the bottom of the basement stairs. The woman—closer to being a girl, really, probably only in her twenties—was clutching a basket of cleaning supplies, one arm raised as if to ward off a blow.

"I no mean to interrupt! No realize anyone here! I need job! I sorry, I sorry!" she continued to apologize.

_It's like a scared animal_ , Quinn thought.  _She looks terrified_. Pushing away her own feelings, the artist spoke softly and smiled gently.

"It's okay, really," Quinn reassured the trembling maid. "You didn't interrupt anything."

The woman hesitated. "No trouble?" she asked hesitantly.

The teenagers frowned. Why would she be in trouble?

Seeing their confusion, the woman elaborated. "When I see Mr. Fabray do this, when I interrupt, he is very angry."

"When you see him do what?"

"When I see him with pretty girls! He say he send me back to Poland unless I make up to him!"

Rachel's eyes widened at the revelation. She wanted to hold Quinn, comfort her, but the Cheerio still had questions.

"When do you see my father with pretty girls? Who are they?"

"I see girls sometimes—Americans—when your mother no here. They are young. I do not know who, but sometimes they answer phone and use calendar."

"And how does my father insist you 'make it up to him'?" Quinn's voice was deceptively calm.

At this, the maid looked down. "He…he want me to do things…touch him…" she whispered. "When I say 'no' he is angry. He yell and hit…I ran. Even your mother punishes me. When I go to clean bedrooms, she screams 'Get out! Never touch things in here!' My boss sends new girl for some time, until they forget." She smiled bitterly. "We are all the same to them."

Quinn, though shaking, managed to keep her voice steady. "I'm sorry. I apologize for my father. But I am not him. I will not hurt you, and I will do what I can to keep him from hurting you too. I'm sorry about my mom, too. If you can't be relocated, then I will give you copies of my parents' schedules, and mine, so that you know when it is safe to come. I will help you. Please believe me."

The woman met Quinn's eyes and nodded. "I am Hanna."

"Hi, Hanna. I'm Quinn, and this is my girlfriend, Rachel." The artist took the singer's hand and squeezed.

Hanna looked meaningfully at their intertwined fingers and asked, "You are together? You care for one another?"

With Rachel's approval, Quinn nodded. "We do. Does that make you uncomfortable?"

The maid paused, and then answered, "No. I think…it is nice. It is the first time I see love in this house."

Both girls met Hanna's smile with their own.

* * *

Later that day, as Quinn parked in front of the Berry residence and stroked her girlfriend's hand, Rachel turned to face the blonde.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah, Rach?"

"Are you okay?"

The artist momentarily stopped tracing patterns on Rachel's palm. "What do you mean?"

Rachel sighed. "You know what I mean. About Hanna…and your parents. I can tell it's bothering you, and I want you to know that you can talk to me about it."

Quinn shrugged. "I'm okay. It's not your problem, alright?"

The diva frowned and pulled her hand back. "It is my problem, because it affects you. I care about you, Quinn Fabray. A lot. Don't lock me out."  _Please_ , she added silently.

"I care about you too, Rachel. I really do."  _I think I could even fall in love with you_.

"Then why won't you talk to me? Do you not trust me? Do you not want this—us—to be serious?" Brown eyes filled with hurt.

"No! It's not that; it's not you. I promise."

"Then why…?"  _Is it about Frannie, whoever she is? Or why you live in an attic apartment, even though your house has more than enough bedrooms?_

Quinn reached for Rachel's hand again.

"Rachel. I want to be with you. I want to hold your hand, and hug you, and kiss you. I want to make you laugh. I want to protect you and comfort you and kill anyone who hurts you. I want to know what makes you tick, and what ticks you off. I want to know your life story, and I want to be in it. And I hope you feel the same."

"I do. So then…" The singer trailed off.

Quinn continued, "Listen, I want that, all of that, but it doesn't have to all happen  _right now_. There are some things I just don't like to talk about—my family, for instance. I need time to process things, okay? But I promise I'll go to you if I need to."

The blonde kissed pouting lips softly, until she felt Rachel smile. Pulling away slightly, but pressing their foreheads together, she whispered, "I plan on being with you for a long time." The diva responded by kissing her more deeply.

They broke apart at the sound of snickering, and saw a nearby boy—a second-grader, maybe—watching them through the car windshield. Quinn made a face, and he laughed and ran away.

"Whoops," the Cheerio commented, "Guess we suck at keeping this secret."

Silence.

"Rachel?"

The brunette bit her lip. "Quinn? Do you want this to be a secret?"

The blonde thought about it. "No," she replied. "But I don't want to tweet 'Quinn Fabray is a raging lesbian' either. And then there's church…"

"So what do you want to do?" Rachel asked.

"Well, Santana and Brittany already know…"

"And that random kid," Rachel joked.

"Yeah, and that random kid," Quinn agreed.

Rachel had an idea. "What if we didn't announce it, but just…told a few people. Friends. Family. It's Lima—news like this will spread. I know Kurt would want to hear it from me."

The cheerleader nodded. "Yeah, that could work. I don't want to tell my parents, and they're not around long enough to matter, but I do want to tell Sam and Mercedes. And maybe Puck."

"Oh God, he'll probably be ecstatic," Rachel groaned, and they laughed.

The girls grinned at each other for a while, kissing a few more times before Rachel finally got out of the car.

Quinn watched her walk to the door, enjoying the view, and waited until the petite singer—and her fathers!—waved from the front window. Blushing, Quinn started the ignition and drove home.


	11. Chapter 11

Quinn repressed the urge to tap her fingers on the table, forcing herself to inhale the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked biscotti instead. Glancing at the clock, the minutes passed agonizingly slowly.  _Where is he?_

An eternity later, the artist saw his head of blonde hair and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, sorry I took so long," Sam apologized, offering her a sheepish smile. "I wanted to go home first and drop off my family. I didn't know how long this would take. You made it sound like a really big deal, so I thought you'd rather my family not be waiting for me in the parking lot."

Quinn smiled back—of course Sam would have to go home first instead of leaving directly from church.  _Not every teenager has his—or her—own car._  She waited until he was settled, hot chocolate in hand, before speaking.

"So, you probably want to know why I asked you to meet me here," she began. Sam nodded, but didn't interrupt, so she continued. "I…I have something I want to tell you. I'm not going to die or anything," she added when she saw his look of alarm, "but it is important."

The boy waited patiently for her to go on.

Quinn bit her lip.  _I think I'm going to be sick._ "Sam, I…I'm seeing someone," she finally managed, clenching her coffee cup and staring at the lid.

Her ex looked confused. "Okay. Is that it? We broke up so long ago, and I know we're just friends, if that's what you're worried about. Why is this a big deal?"

The cheerleader looked away.  _Please don't hate me_ , she prayed.

"Do I know him? Is he from a different school? Is he from Dalton? Are you dating the enemy? Oh God, it's not Finn again, is it? Please tell me you're not going back to him!" Sam demanded, worried by Quinn's silence.

"No!" she yelled, jerking her head up to face him. Several people turned in their direction, so she lowered her voice. "No, it's not Finn, or a guy from Dalton. It's…not a guy at all," she whispered, shutting her eyes.

When she opened them, instead of seeing disgust, or anger, or even pity on his face, she saw…happiness?

"Why are you smiling?" she asked gruffly. Sam laughed.

"Because I'm happy for you!"

 _Well this was unexpected_.

"Wait, what? Why?" probed Quinn incredulously.  _Is this really not a big deal to him?_

Her companion shrugged. "Well, if you're telling me about it, then you must really like this not-guy you're dating, right? And if you like this person, then  _you_  must be happy."

Sam's grin widened as Quinn processed this information.

"So…you're not mad?" she asked tentatively.

Sam shook his head. "Not at all. Look, we're friends now. I just want you to be happy. And I know you weren't when we were together, or you wouldn't have cheated on me with Finn. And if you were happy with Finn, you wouldn't have cheated on him with Puck. And if you were happy with Puck—"

"I get it!" Quinn shouted, once again earning curious glances from surrounding tables. At a volume more reasonable for a coffee shop, she added, "God, I'm a truly awful girlfriend, aren't I? How can you not hate me for cheating so much?"  _The apple doesn't fall far from the tree_ , she thought bitterly.

Her friend hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I don't consider it really  _cheating_  anymore. I mean, it hurt like hell when it happened, but looking back, I think I know why you did it."

Quinn frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I think…I think you were trying to convince yourself that you liked us in that way. That you were, you know, in to guys."

The afternoon passed as Sam sipped his hot chocolate and Quinn examined her certainly dysfunctional previous relationships. When she finally mustered the courage to tell him her "not-guy" was, in fact, glee club's own Rachel Berry, he wanted to know how they had gotten together. Sam listened supportively as Quinn babbled about how amazing her girlfriend was, and winced in sympathy when she told him about Hanna and the latest drama with her father. The artist remembered how non-judgmental Sam had been about Kurt when he first moved here.

 _He really is a good guy_ , she thought.  _Of all the guys I've dated, Sam is definitely the best. I'm glad we can still be friends. Finn's too clueless, and not in the sweet way that Sam is, and Puck's too…Puck_.  _Sam is good guy, a lot like…_  Quinn shook her head and refocused on Sam's impersonation of Forest Gump, laughing appreciatively at his goofiness.

Eventually, facing glares from people eying their prime table and empty cups, the blondes stood to go.

As they gathered their things, Quinn said, "Thank you, Sam."

"Anytime. And I promise not to tell anyone without your permission."

"I'm really glad we're friends. And I'm sorry I ever hurt you," she added.

He grinned. "That's okay. Make it up to me by putting in a good word for me with Mercedes."

She laughed. "I'll try, if you're willing to face that huge boyfriend of hers."

He laughed too and flexed his biceps. "Deal."

They hugged solidly, Quinn resting her head against his chest, breathing in the comforting and familiar Sam-ness before kissing his cheek. He made a face jokingly and she shoved him lightly as he turned to leave.

Halfway out the door, Sam paused.

"Hey, Quinn, one more thing?"

She looked at him curiously. "Yeah, Sam?"

"You're not your dad."

The cheerleader shook her head ruefully.  _He sounds like Brittany; I swear those two must have been siblings in a past life. Maybe this won't be so bad. Maybe it's not that big a deal. With Sam, and Santana, and Brittany—and Rachel, of course—maybe it will be okay._

As Quinn checked her phone one last time before driving home, she thought,  _I wonder how Rachel's talk with Kurt went._


End file.
